


Fortress

by marmolady



Series: Endless Ending [3]
Category: Endless Summer (Visual Novel)
Genre: Choices, F/F, Playchoices - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 19:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19933216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolady/pseuds/marmolady
Summary: Post-ending (Endless Ending) In the wake of the wider world’s destruction, grief has being hanging over The Celestial. Taylor needs to escape, to get out from under all the sadness, just for a while. Thankfully, she has Estela.





	Fortress

The new reality demanded some amount of adjustment to everyone’s way of thinking. Getting on and living, as though they were home and settled, did not come easily. After everything the gang had been through, the presence of one another meant security, and everyone instinctively stayed close to the main group. But what to do? There was no direction. For Estela, what they had was enough. Dammit, it was _more_ than enough. She’d been fighting for too long; to have peace, peace and the woman she loved, friends nearby… there was nothing more she could ask for. True, she’d lost the last of her family, her beloved tio; true, she’d come out of the fight with deep mental scars, but for all of it, she was content. With her friends in various degrees of turmoil, she could only try, in her awkward way, to be supportive, and hope that in time, they might feel content too.

Estela was stretching by the side of the pool, challenging herself to hold each pose ever-longer. She could discreetly keep an eye on the usual milling around; looking out over the surrounding beach where Grace, Michelle and Quinn were idly collecting shells. The picture was idyllic, but whether it was the clouds overhead or just the reality of all that had been lost rearing its ugly head again, the morning held an unmistakeably gloomy quality. She watched the interaction between the three women with quiet curiosity. In recent days, when she hadn’t been avoiding company altogether, Michelle had been quick to snap, lashing out predominantly at those who’d chosen to stay rather than accept Rourke’s vision of the world. Estela knew that the invisible divide in the group wasn’t just her imagination. Today at least, everyone seemed to be getting along. Quinn seemed to be a massive driver of that; what with her almost magical quality of being able to bring a smile to just about anyone’s face. It wasn’t even a superpower bestowed on her by the Heart, it was just _her._ The redhead sat down upon the sand between her two friends, and then their arms were all around one another. The sight tugged at Estela’s heartstrings. It was all that hugging and heart-to-heart stuff that she herself was not quite sure how to pull off, at least not with anyone besides her wife. With everyone so close to the end of their respective tethers, she didn’t often dare to venture her own offer of comfort, other than an awkward silent hug. She’d say the wrong thing; she knew it.

A shifting in the foliage alerted Estela to the fact that she had company. Keeping still, she smirked. Taylor just wouldn’t give up.

“Rrraaagh!!!” The petite blonde burst through the undergrowth, taking her wife from behind, arms thrust around her neck. She didn’t even flinch. “You’re not remotely surprised, are you?”

“You’d never make an ambush hunter. Points for enthusiasm; that much I’ll give you.” Estela shrugged Taylor off, but couldn’t hide her smile. It was just what her lover did to her. “What have you been up to?” From the moment she uttered the question, Taylor’s face fell, and with it, Estela’s did also… she couldn’t stand the sadness in those blue eyes.

Taylor exhaled heavily, as if trying to blow out the poison that had settled in her heart since the uncovering of her identity, her purpose. Her _failed_ purpose. “I was just talking to Jake about Mike. He was still holding onto some hope that we could save him, as if it was as _simple_ as that…”

“We talked about it before,” Estela said solemnly. “We can’t use the portals to try and save people we lost; he knows that.” Of course, it had crossed her own mind. A massive disturbance to space-time was exactly what they’d sacrificed so much to prevent; they couldn’t risk some kind of catastrophic paradox. Mike had died in the midst of the swirling, raging vortex; it was not a time they could revisit without risking too much. And of her mother… naturally, Estela longed to just duck through some tear in time and bring her to safety, but after all that had happened, Olivia Montoya’s murder now held too much significance for it to be averted. There would be consequences; none of them good. She could torture herself trying to find a loophole, as Jake seemed bent on doing, or she could start to heal. Poor Jake. “It must be like emotional fucking whiplash. To save Mike after all that time, and then…” She shook her head. “But he’s gonna get through this. We all will; together.”

Though she tried to smile, Taylor’s heart wasn’t in it. She could see Michelle, Grace and Quinn banded together by the sea, clearly seeking shared comfort. Probably grateful for the gloom, a grey mist that shrouded the haunting horizon, hiding the fires that they all knew burned on.

“You know,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, “some days, it’s like there’s a haze of sadness hanging over this place. It’s stifling. I guess… I guess that’s to be expected.” Taylor sighed. “What with it being the end of the world. I don’t know what I was fucking expecting. All of us holding hands, and singing, and throwing parties every night, as if everything was rosy? After, after _everything_ , I owe it to them to help…”

“Taylor, as much as you want to, you can’t make everyone stop hurting.”

“See, I know that, but at the same time, everything in me just wants to make it all better.”

“That’s because you’re a good person. Good, and kind, and empathetic. It’s who you are.” Estela took Taylor’s little finger and hooked it on her own. She knew that Taylor, so sensitive to the pain of her loved ones, must be agonising in the belief that she could have spared them this grief. It wasn’t fair; and she sure as hell didn’t deserve to suffer over an impossible decision made under unimaginable pressure. “If it helps… you make me feel better. Just by being here. Just by being you.”

A small smile came to Taylor’s face; weak, but soft and real, and she gently swung her hand, joined with her partner’s, back and forth between them. She doubted herself- of course she did- but if Estela could keep loving her, the burden might just be bearable. “It’s funny…”

“What’s funny?”

“You’ve got this idea in your head that you don’t know how to talk to people. But then, you come out and say exactly what I need to hear.” She gave a little laugh. “Every time.”

“Well, it’s you. I’m not talking to ‘people’; I’m talking to you.” It was a clear difference in Estela’s mind. In no time at all, talking to Taylor had become as natural to her as breathing.

“You’re better at this than you think you are. You say what matters, and you’re honest. Often brutally so. I think most people would find that refreshing.”

Estela leaned sideways so that she had Taylor’s cheek to her own. She didn’t even need words, not with her. _You don’t need to be a hero to the whole world, but you’re a hero to me._

“Estela? I wanna run away with you, find a place that’s all our own. I don’t mean something big- just like a little bolthole, some sort of shelter we can go to that no one else knows about. I… I don’t know how much longer I can stand just staying here.”

If Taylor needed to escape, Estela would make it happen. And she really did _need_ it. Falling effortlessly into the role of leader almost from the moment the plane touched down, the responsibility Taylor felt for her friends’ heartache brought out in her a deep and hopeless desire to fix everything. While Estela admired her wife’s compassionate heart, she wasn’t going to let it eat her up. La Huerta was theirs for the taking; there was no need to feel trapped, _suffocated_ by the grief that hung over The Celestial. They needed to break out, and hopefullyeveryone else would follow suit. She met Taylor’s eye and nodded.

“I’ll get some things together; and you should give someone a heads up that we might be away for a while. Better we avoid anyone getting hysterical.”

“What, now?” Taylor asked, eyes wide. Of course, now. Had she forgotten who she was talking to? Estela was a getting-things-done person.

“Sorry, do you have a busy schedule?”

“You know I don’t—”

“Then let’s go.”

Just knowing that an escape was in sight, it was enough to allow Taylor to breathe easier. It had been a bad few days. At the beginning of the week, Michelle had cornered her, demanding to know _why_ , why letting the world burn was any better than whatever Rourke might offer. If her choice had been based on anything more than rage on her wife’s behalf. Taylor had stood her ground; she’d trusted her gut, and with the decision being made essentially with a gun to her head, counting down the seconds before everyone she loved perished in a fiery blaze, trusting her gut was all she _could_ do. They had cried together. Michelle had seemed to understand, but… Taylor could feel the resentment lingering on. The previous night’s dinner had also been a real barrel of laughs. Raj had been outdoing himself, putting on the works in the only way he knew how to make things better, the way his grandmother had taught him. When it didn’t work, he crashed. Everyone had retreated to their respective suites, too emotionally drained to deal with one another. This, Taylor knew, would take time, and she would only be strong enough to help her friends through their grief if she could get away, if she could somehow shield herself from the burden that she’d placed on her own shoulders…

“Taylor!” Sean greeted her with a bright smile as she passed through the lobby. He’d been spending some quality time with Raj, talking things out after a turbulent night. It looked to Taylor as though it had done him some good; the look in his eyes was not that of someone who’d given up on life.

“Hey, Sean, you doing okay?” she asked, laying a hand on a strong arm.

“I’m hanging in there. Day by day, that’s all we can do. Day by day.” He caught the worry in Taylor’s eye and pulled her into a hug. “I know it’s been rough; last night’s dinner was a dumpster fire—”

“I’ll say,” Taylor lamented, “it’s not every day you get everyone crying at once. But it’s good, you know? We’re not gonna work through all this if we keep it all locked up inside.”

“And we _will_ get through this. It’s a damn miracle we survived everything we did; I’m not about to let something like that go to waste. And you? You do a great impression of holding it all together.”

Taylor laughed dryly. “That’s me. I’m a great actor; a total mystery. Seriously, though, I’m okay. Trying to stay positive, and honestly struggling sometimes, but you’re right; we’ll get through this.” She stepped back, seeing Estela approaching, two loaded backpacks in hand. “I wanted to give you a heads up; Estela and I are heading off for a little while, not sure when we’ll back. We just thought some space away from the resort will do us good.”

“So, don’t assume you’re both dead in a ditch when we don’t see you for a little while?”

“Precisely.” Taylor offered another quick hug, barely coming up to her friend’s chest. “Don’t you even think about worrying about us. I dunno, try and do something fun, if you can. I think we could all do with some of that.” As she made to walk away, Sean took her shoulder.

“Hang on, Taylor—” 

“Yeah?”

“One sufferer of a leadership complex to another,” he said kindly, “sometimes you’ve got to accept when things are beyond you. It’s not weak to ask for help, or to make sure _you’re_ okay. Remember that.”

“Fine. But only if you remember it too!”

Sean chuckled. “You got me! Anyhow- you two lovebirds have fun, you deserve it.”

* * *

The two women strode through the lush rainforest south of The Celestial, Estela making efforts to slow her blistering pace for Taylor’s benefit. Well, not _just_ for Taylor’s benefit. For so long, almost everything she did had been purposeful, and to slow down and just enjoy the journey was still an unfamiliar notion, but a welcome one. Moments of appreciation for the beauty of the world had been few and far between, making them mean all the more. It hadn’t escaped Estela’s notice that Taylor now traversed the rough terrain with relative ease, as if she’d adapted to La Huerta as her natural habitat. Confident, and increasingly sure-footed, the way she moved drew Estela’s eye again and again. Of all the beautiful things she wanted to take the time to appreciate, there were none that made her heart skip in the way her wife did.

It didn’t take long for the space, the freedom of roaming the untamed forests of La Huerta to have its effect on Taylor. For the first time in days -a _week_ even, she could really breathe. It was just her and Estela, taking on the world. As a tonic, there was nothing better.

The massive buttress roots of a towering tree stood in their path, beyond it, a stream babbled gently.

“Woah, that trunk’s got to be five feet across!” Taylor leaned on the roots, which easily reached her chest, and looked up into the branches of the tree. She called down to Estela, who’d climbed down to the water to fill up their bottles. “What do you think? Treehouse material? I mean, call me paranoid, but I’d rather we put our love-nest up off the ground.”

“Just in case we have a surprise visit from whatever drooling monster from the pits of hell that La Huerta hasn’t thrown at us yet?”

“Exactly. I _know_ you don’t switch off easy… I want you to be comfortable enough to let me be the most inconvenient and dangerous of distractions.”

Estela knew full well that Taylor was taking the piss. She’d already given in to temptation- it was much too late to _not_ get a little bit swept up in her feelings. But it was different now. Once scared that the perceived weakness would be the death of both of them, Estela had come to the realisation that their greatest strength was in one another. Her guard would always be up -she wasn’t a damn fool!- but she had learned how to embrace her emotions, those that had not so long ago been unsettling, without letting her judgement be clouded. She walked around the great tree and glanced to the sky. The clouds were ominously dark; if they were going to put together some kind of shelter, it would be wise to get a move on. She dropped her backpack and took out two machete-like knives.

“One romantic treehouse getaway coming right up…”

* * *

The first drops of rain brought with them a pleasantly earthy scent, in itself refreshing. The patterings of water upon the skin were a cool relief, washing away sweat from Estela’s brow as she hacked at yet another small trunk. Her usual hoodie thrown aside, she was down to a singlet, and was certain she’d felt Taylor’s heated gaze upon her arms as she worked. All right, maybe she took the opportunity to show-off to her now and then. Just a little. Maybe.

Up in the tree, Taylor was busy tying up the slanted roof for their shelter, taking her time to make sure the structure was sturdy. As Estela hauled up another branch to her, she offered a hand. Taylor wasn’t born yesterday; _obviously_ her wife didn’t need help getting up, but any excuse to hold her hand, she’d take it. There was something about the feeling of Estela’s rough, calloused fingers against her palm that made Taylor feel like she was invincible. _They_ were invincible.

Rolling her eyes, Estela let herself be hauled up into her partner’s waiting arms. A quick kiss was all she could offer; it could be no time at all before it poured with rain. Ignoring Taylor’s pout, she propped up the new branch beneath a loose section of the shelter.

“You want to tie it in here nice and tight,” she said, holding it steady while her wife worked. “That should hold everything in place. We can pretty it up later, but for now it should at least keep the rain off- I’ve got a tarp in my bag if we need it.” Estela reached for her hoodie. Thankfully, it had been kept dry. She pulled it over her head, then sat back, watching as Taylor put the finishing touches on their little retreat. She looked more like herself; bright, undaunted. If the two of them could just keep holding on together, perhaps they could see their friends through the worst of the storm.

“You’re staring at me…” Taylor grinned. She liked it. It was an Estela thing.

“I… didn’t know you were so good with your hands.”

“ _Really?_ You of _all_ peopleshould know _–”_

“I mean at, you know, tying knots,” Estela said hastily, flushing a deep red. “And you knew _exactly_ what I was talking about.” _Asshole._ “It’s just nice to see you busy.”

Still smirking, Taylor looped the rope around and pulled it tight. “Jake showed me a few knots. I thought the knowledge might come in handy for, you know,” she wiggled her eyebrows, “ _stuff_.”

Estela giggled. “I’d like to see you try and tie something that I couldn’t wriggle out of…”

“Oh yeah? Is that a challenge?” Taylor crawled forward, the wooden flow hard on her knees, but she really didn’t care. Estela was staring again, and there might as well be nothing else. The gaze was intense, and yet so warm; it was _intoxicating…_

A sudden roar of the heavens opening and unleashing a titanic downpour made Taylor almost jump out of her skin.

“Holy crap!”

She scuttled for cover, while Estela laughed, hurriedly securing the tarpaulin over the roof, preventing drips.

“I told you it was gonna throw it down,” Estela said, pulling a thick blanket from her backpack and draping it over the hard floor. “Come here; lie with me.” She lay down on her back, and patted the blanket beside her, inviting Taylor to lie close.

Taylor lowered herself down carefully, watching as Estela exhaled slowly, her eyes closed. Peaceful. She let her own breathing become deep, taking the feel of the damp air in; the scents, the sounds of the rain, it all washed over her. But most of all, there was Estela. Soaked hair clinging to her face, her clothes to her skin, droplets clinging to her eyebrows and lashes. The rise and fall of her chest was slow and steady, as if she were totally at ease with the world; a small, soft smile played on her lips. Taylor leaned over, tasting those full, sensual lips in the most delicate of kisses, and felt a whispered _‘I love you’_ against her own. Then she lay down next to her, exposed and yet invulnerable.

Her eyes still closed, Estela murmured, “I always liked this sound. Rain on a roof. It’s like being surrounded by a forcefield; the world can throw what it wants at you, but you can’t be touched. When I was little, it made me feel safe. A lot of the time there would be fighting in the streets nearby, sirens blaring, yelling, screaming… it was nice to feel untouchable, even if was an illusion. Just the three of us in our bubble.”

She could almost be back there, tucked up in bed beside her mother. The pelting rain dulled the sounds of an unstable world, and it tested the walls of their fortress. The loud and rapid drumming on the roof told Estela that their shield was working, and she could rest. They were safe. An arm snaked around her waist, and for a split second, she might have sworn it was her mom, reaching to her for comfort as she had so many times before. Turning in, she snuggled closer to the warm body beside her, her sweet, courageous Taylor.

“That’s… how I feel when I’m with you,” Taylor breathed. Even competing with the rain, she knew her every word would be hung onto, heard. “Invincible. The world keeps storming on, but… I have you.”

Estela’s eyes opened a little, seeking the sincere gaze of her partner. In that look they shared, she felt sanctuary… paradise. Total peace. And her body relaxed; loose, free, as if she were floating on a cloud. The stifling sadness was gone; what was left was the two of them. Taylor was her safe place now; her strength, her home.

“I’ll be your fortress,” she said quietly, a husky whisper against her wife’s forehead, then kissed her there, slow and tender. _Taylor…_ hell, she’d shield her from every pain in the world if she could. Estela reached once more for Taylor’s hand, creased from the rain, but warm; fingers fitting the curves of her own as though they’d been made with no other purpose but to be held there. “You’ll be mine.”


End file.
